


The World May End With You But It Begins With Everyone Else, So Wake Up, Get Up, And Get The Hell Out There

by knightofsuperior



Category: Persona 4, Persona 5, Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: A New Day didn't happen for convenience's sake, Again sort of, Along with some other crossover elements, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But other elements of Neo TWEWY might be filtered in, Cafe Leblanc (Persona 5), Crossover, Definitely subscribe to the theory that Ken Doi is Sho's dad or other parental figure, I've only played Vanilla P5 so far unfortunately, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Persona 5: The Royal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Persona 4 Spoilers, Persona 5 Spoilers, Sort Of, Spoilers, Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:49:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofsuperior/pseuds/knightofsuperior
Summary: Years after his last Game, Sho Minamimoto walks into a café.He leaves with a new home, a new job, and the same old problems (and some new ones) just waiting just around the corner.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	1. The Only Thing Separating A Good Life from a Bad One is a Matter of Optics

**Author's Note:**

> I've waited thirteen years for a TWEWY sequel, and my lizard brain is determined to get as much Sho Minamimoto content written as possible. 
> 
> This was weirdly one of the first ones to come to mind.
> 
> Let the game begin.

Hindsight was a hell of a thing.

It was like reading a textbook: dry, clinical, and meandering to the point of inanity. Took  _ way  _ too long to get to the point-and if you were smart, you’d have that point figured out seconds into the process.

(If he was humble, he’d say he was a  _ little  _ intelligent, but that would be underselling it.)

This particular trip down memory lane wasn’t born of any regret, that much was certain. Regret would imply he was sorry for the path he took, and he was damn sure he enjoyed every second of the ride (excluding  _ certain _ aspects). Nor was it made manifest from any sense of longing for change-to want to change the past would imply he made mistakes, and he didn’t make those. Nah. Any flaws, any missteps, any trouble that came his way? That was the world trying to pull him down to its pathetic, microscopic level.

No, this sudden retrospective came from the one thing he hated the most.

Sheer, utter, and completely mind-numbing  _ mundanity _ .

The one thing his life should  _ never _ have been was dull.

It would’ve been interesting if they’d come after him after all the chaos had settled down. It would’ve been  _ exciting _ if he had to go on the run, stalked by overwhelming odds that he could summarily rebel against. Hell, he even made himself utterly and completely known, just to showcase how utterly useless their attempts on his life were, how doomed they were to retribution beyond comparison.

And they didn’t care.

Not one bit.

Not even the one who got him into this mess, it seemed.

At that point, their game- _ his _ game-was over for them. Sure, they gave the requisite warnings, the “don’t let us catch you around here again”, and for a second he was thrilled. Ecstatic, even, for the  _ real _ game to begin.

Then, in a manner of seconds and a flurry of blows, he found that they’d clipped his wings and trimmed his claws. 

To add insult to injury?

They took pity on him.

They tossed him some chump change and a clean slate-a new day, they called it, a “second chance.” They told him to go back to the life he had.

It was  _ infuriating. _

And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Sure, he plotted and schemed and toiled to find just the right way to get back at the two of them-no, at the city itself. Even the world, if he felt ambitious. He scoped out places where the frequencies were weak, weak enough that he could see the folks in red, the  _ wings _ . He knew where to strike, and how to strike.

His stratagems were perfect. His plans were flawless. His victory was assured.

The world, garbage as it was, knew it couldn’t win. So it, and its little helpers, changed the rules.

At every turn, he was stymied by forces now beyond his control-forces he once commanded like they were the very fabric of reality itself. Time and time again, he was denied, seeing the flicker of a smirk in every reflection as he wailed furiously against wall after wall. He found himself again and again forced to watch as his enemies just...moved on with their lives. Some left the city, others simply vanished from the public eye. He’d spot some on occasion on a crowded street, always just meters out of his reach. One by one, they subtracted themselves from his view.

Eventually, he was the remainder, damned to a life of mediocrity as his quarry slipped from his grasp.

No longer was he master of his own fate.

He was just another radian, going through the same equation again and again.

And now, here he was. Almost a decade later. 

Ten years.

One-hundred and twelve months, give or take a few of the four-hundred and ninety weeks and thousands of days he spent festering in this abyss of a city. Drifting from ward to ward, getting by with funds earned from odd-jobs and a few well-placed investments (of his  _ own _ money; he tossed the brat’s cash off the nearest bridge the instant he was out of sight). He never stayed in one spot for long, preferring to stay long enough to survive and long enough to be forgotten.

(He refused to return to his so-called “home.” Let them all think he was six feet under for all he cared. He’d  _ never _ darken that doorstep again.

Even if he did miss the smell of freshly made ramen broth.)

Once, he fought in life or death battles, with the city streets as his personal battlefield and playground. 

Now, here he was, sifting through the classifieds in a no-name coffee shop.

It was all just so.

Zetta.

"-slow!" Sho Minamimoto slammed a fist onto the table, shaking the box of sugar packets and sweetener. He growled as his free hand crunched the newspaper it held, words and ink compressing bit by bit as he felt his fingers tear into the paper. As if on cue, a plate of curry and a cup of coffee were placed before him.

"Sorry for the wait," a gravelly voice replied. "Here's your order." Sho glanced at the old man-and his bemused expression. Thankfully, he seemed as far away visually from the Producer as one could get. Where “Hanekoma” was young-looking and fashionable, this guy (for better or for worse) stood out as remarkably unremarkable, with the only stylish item on him being the pink shirt underneath a striped black apron. "The job market is tough these days, huh?"

"Suppose so," Sho muttered, reaching for his coffee. "You hiring?"

The man put a hand to his chin. "I suppose so. I've already got a part-timer, but if you have some free time, I can see about putting you on a shift or two. It’s been slow, but the work isn’t too tough all-in-all.”

“Aren’t you magnanimous.”

The man chuckled, sitting on the opposite side of the booth. “To tell you the truth, our star employee is out of town-he’ll be back next year, and I was fully expecting to have to run this place on my own. I won’t say no to an extra hand or two. I have it on good authority, as well, that my customers seem to like having the mysterious types serving their food.”

Sho pocketed the remains of his newspaper in his coat. “Saying obvious homage can allow helpful transactions, or horrors.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“S.O.H.C.A.H.T.O.A.,” Sho replied, as if that explained it all, before taking a sip of his drink. The barista’s face scrunched in mild confusion. Sho sighed. “Look, old-timer. You don’t know me any more than I know you. What makes you think I won’t just multiply my profits for a day and bounce?”

“Frankly? I don’t.” The man smirked, running a hand through his hair. “But, I’ve had a good track record of taking in strays so far. I’d hate to have my intuition be wrong, so I’m counting on you to not let that happen.”

Sho stared at him for a moment, before a toothy grin took over. “Good answer.”

“That’s ‘good answer, Boss,’” the man replied. “Now, do you have a place to stay?”

Sho frowned-he technically did, but the hostel was closing up for renovations. He had plans to find housing wherever his next gig was, but this area didn’t exactly seem...hospitable to transients. “I’m working on it.”

“Not anymore.” He gestured to the stairs at the far end of the café. “There’s an open space until my part-timer returns. Just don’t touch anything, and you’ll be fine.”

Sho’s eyes narrowed. “You’re being awfully generous. What do you get out of this permutation?”

Boss chuckled. “Well, half the work off my shoulders for one. Second...I guess it’s empty nest syndrome or the like. It’ll be nice to have someone around-plus, it’s more time I can spend with my daughter. You might see her around now and again, but she’s...” He paused, rubbing his chin. “Not the most social, so don’t feel offended if she tries to avoid you.”

_ We’re in the same vector, huh? _ Sho nodded, standing up from the table. Dropping some yen on the table, he looked back down at Boss. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Getting your things?” Boss nodded, gesturing towards the door. “I’ll be open for a few more hours, so take your time.” As Sho strolled out, pulling his hood over his head, Sojiro Sakura glanced down at the coins before looking up to the ceiling. “Futaba, I know you’re listening, so be nice to the new kid.” A text appeared on his phone:  _ You’re a big softie, you know that? _

For better or for worse, he did.

* * *

Sho felt the bitter cold as he stepped into the subway car, only vaguely hearing the announcements over the speakers. He saw them, even if only for a second. Players, pins and all, rushing out the doors. It was a cruel joke-even without his Reaper abilities, he could still  _ sense _ the UG, its frequency occasionally spiking just enough for him to catch glimpses here and there. That at least made for something of a familiarity over the past decade-he couldn’t call it  _ comfort _ , but it gave him the opportunity to get a bead on how things were going...and how he could work that into his ever-growing catalog of solutions.

He’d find his in. He always did.

One way or another, he  _ would _ become-

He paused.

Something was in the reflection.

Obviously, there was. Everyone on the train, the seats, the speeding walls around the train.

But there was something else there. Something inky and fluid, looming behind his reflection. Two pairs of yellow eyes shone from the muck. _Taboo Noise? No...he’d be able to tell. He’d_ ** _definitely_** _know. The Composer, maybe? No, that brat wouldn’t bother hiding. What the factor-_

And in a flash, it was gone.

Sho knew that strange things lay beyond the veil of death. He’d seen plenty-he’d  _ been _ plenty.

He had the strangest sense, however, that what he just saw wasn’t of the RG  _ or _ UG.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out where it belonged.


	2. Reflections Are a Window to the Soul, But Self-Reflection is a Window Into the Past, Which is Arguably Harder to Come to Terms With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Reapers and two Players reconnect over lunch.

Why was this her life?

Why did she always get caught up in Kariya’s flow?

Why did she let him talk her into going here?

And why, of all the places in this goddamn city they could have gone to, did she have to actually  _ like _ this one?

“It’s okay to say you’re enjoying the food.” Kariya took a sip of his milkshake, leaning back in the booth. “It’s also okay to actually slow down and actually  _ enjoy  _ the food. It’s not going anywhere-”

“Shut up,” Uzuki muttered, mouth full. “If you-”  _ Chomp _ . “-keep interrupting me-”  **_Crunch_ ** . “-I won’t beat the clock!”

Kariya shook his head, glancing out the window. “Leave it to you to go workaholic on your lunch. On such a beautiful day, too. We could’ve taken it to-go.” 

Uzuki responded with a grunt as she continued to snarf down her Comet Burger. It  _ was _ nice out, she would admit. The sun was shining high in the cloudless sky, and she and Kariya had managed to get their parts of today’s mission set up nice and early. Kariya (admittedly due to having a “buy one, get one” coupon) offered to cover her lunch for the day, something she wasn’t about to turn down. She was frustrated when it looked like he’d just taken her to some generic fast food place.

She wasn’t prepared for the juiciest, most flavorful meal she ever had...nor for the coupon to apply to the store’s specialty, the Big Bang Burger Challenge.

Uzuki was  _ never _ one to back down from a challenge, much to Kariya’s chagrin. 

She barely noticed Kariya’s attention shift from the window as he stared at her...no,  _ past _ her. She wondered for a moment, as she finally hit the halfway point of the burger, what could possibly catch his attention.

“Yo, izzat you, Lollipop? Pinky?”

Uzuki froze mid-bite.  _ Oh no. _

“Well, if it isn’t our little rebel,” Kariya drawled. “Not so little anymore, though-you’ve got a few centimeters on me, I think!” 

“And you two look the same-must be some kinda Reaper shit, right?”

Uzuki slowly, cautiously continued her quest as a figure approached the booth. Even out of the corner of her eye, she could tell that Beat (it  _ was _ Beat, right? Or was he Rhyme? She wasn’t entirely sure) had grown fairly decently over the last ten years. Despite Kariya’s claims, it was clear he was still somewhat shorter than the two of them, but everything was relative in the end. 

Then there were the little things. Some stubble on his face, broader shoulders, a few scars here and there. One thing that for sure  _ hadn’t  _ changed was his style-still with the tank top and cargo pants, emblazoned with Wild Boar logos. He had a pair of horn-rimmed glasses poking out from his pocket, though if they were for fashion or function was lost on her. His beanie looked just like the one he wore back in that Game...hell, she was pretty sure it  _ was _ that one, given how faded the fabric looked.

Catching her gaze, Beat frowned. “Got a problem?”

“I thought one of your friends was a designer. Couldn’t you ask her to make you a new hat?”

“Seamstress,” he corrected. “And fer the album, she’s been fixin’ this thing up just fine.”

“It’s ‘for the record’, Beat,” a quiet voice interjected. “Though, that does have some charm to it.” 

_ Ah, right,  _ Uzuki thought as a young woman poked her head over the booth, arms crossed atop the laminate.  _ This _ was Rhyme. Her outfit, at least, seemed a bit more “made-in-the-21st-century” than Beat’s, from what she could gather. It was a simple sweater, a mix of violet and red with what looked like...some sort of pig on the front? In any case, it seemed a tad too large for her, with sleeves dangling far from where her arms likely sat within them. Her bell necklace hung around her neck, and her beanie...also, surprisingly, seemed to be the original article. 

Maybe they were gifts, if they were  _ that _ attached to them.

Her hair looked shorter than Uzuki remembered-still blonde, but with blue highlights at the end. She seemed taller than before-actually, taller than her brother, now that she thought of it (if by minor margin). Her own half-moon glasses sat comfortably above the bridge of her nose, barely sliding as she leaned over the booth.

“How is that?” Rhyme asked, waving one of her sleeves towards the Comet Burger. “It seems like a lot of food…”

Uzuki swallowed her bite, taking a deep breath as she lifted the burger up again. “It’s fine.”  _ Chomp. _

“What she means to say,” Kariya added, “Is that it’s good enough for her to get through half of it in a few minutes.”

“Huh. Might try that sometime, then.”

Kariya chuckled, lowering his shades slightly. “I take it you’re not here for the eats, then? Did you miss us that badly, then?”

Beat’s face betrayed little, but a flicker of a frown formed all the same. “Nah. We’re just waitin’ for someone.”

“You didn’t answer the second part, rookie.”

Beat growled, his hand balling up into a fist. “Why the hell would I miss the two bastards who got Rhyme-”

Kariya’s grin faltered. Uzuki slowly put down her food and went for her drink, doing her best to at least  _ look _ nonchalant.

“Beat.” Rhyme glanced at him, a pleading look in her eye. “I know. I  _ know _ .”

Beat’s shoulders slumped as he gave Rhyme a nod. “Right...right, sorry, yo.”

“Hey, look.” Kariya turned to Rhyme specifically, his tone soft. “For what it’s worth...I know it’s years too late, but I’m sorry it went down the way it did. It wasn’t anything personal-we got our jobs to do. It’s not like we enjoy the erasing part especially...at least, not as much as we used to. But even then, it was all business; orders from on high. You get that, right?”

Rhyme tilted her head. “I do. And, for what it’s worth, I think your jobs are bullshit, and that you can bite me.”

Kariya’s jaw dropped.

Uzuki spat her drink clean across the table (only managing to avoid the burger by yanking the tray as close to her as possible).

Beat held his hands up in front of his face, his shock crystal clear. “Bwah! What the  _ fuck _ , Rhyme!”

Rhyme blinked. “What? Isn’t that what you said you wanted to say if we ever saw them again?”

“Yeah, but  _ I _ was gonna-” He stumbled over his syllables, eventually settling on “It sounds  _ weird _ comin’ from  _ you _ !”

Rhyme giggled, swinging her arms off of the booth and behind her back. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know.” Taking out a 100 yen coin, she reached into Beat’s pocket, pulling out a zip-lock bag labeled “To-Go Swear Jar.” 

( _ Of  _ **_course_ ** _ he has one of those,  _ Kariya thought.)

Placing the coin inside, Rhyme replied, “I think I’m allowed to swear, given the circumstances.” Casting a withering glare at the two Reapers, she asked-tone sugary sweet-”Wouldn’t you agree?”

Kariya nodded far more quickly than he intended to, Uzuki simply muttering affirmatives as she coughed into a napkin.

Beat grinned, taking the bag back and stuffing it in his pocket. “Aight, aight, I gotchu. Still.” He turned back to the Reapers, his face a steely mask once more. “I’ve thought a lot about what to say to you if we ever ran into you again. It’s damn good luck you didn’t catch us right after the third week-I woulda kicked your asses four ways to Friday.”

“‘Six ways to Sunday,’ Beat.”

“Yeah, that.” Beat crossed his arms, glaring down at the two. “Hell, I still wanna kick your asses, but...it ain’t worth it right now. I just wanna say somethin’.”

“Spit it out, then, rookie.” Uzuki leaned against the window, picking up her burger and gesturing towards the siblings. “I’m  _ dying  _ to hear what insightful nuggets of wisdom you’ve cooked up over the years.”

“Aight, here goes.” Beat took a deep breath. “Ya’ll’ve probably been through some shit before you became Reapers, and you hurt others to get over that shit. I ain’t ever gonna forgive you for what you did to Rhyme…” He and Rhyme shared a look, before she continued. 

“...but we do feel sorry for you. Your lives can’t have been easy, and working as a Reaper must have added even more stress-especially if you had to play through the Game like us. We hope, someday, you find some semblance of peace with what you’ve done and in your lives as a whole.”

There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by the Comet Burger slipping straight out of Uzuki’s hands and splattering onto the tray. Before either of the Reapers could respond, the sound of the front doors opening caught Beat’s attention. “Yo, Hanamura, you’re late!”

A young, brown-haired man in a business suit and slacks scrambled up to the two. Kariya vaguely recognized the logo on his nametag-some kind of big-box store...Jane’s, maybe? “Sorry, sorry! The meeting ran  _ way _ too long; are you two ready to go?”

“Man, we  _ been _ ready, yo!”

The salaryman spared a quick look towards the Reapers-in particular, shooting a sympathetic smile at Uzuki and her ruined lunch. “Don’t worry, I didn’t beat the challenge either my first time around.”

Uzaki opened her mouth, but no words came to her.

Rhyme checked her watch. “Okay, if we go now, we should still be there before rehearsal, but we’d have to book it.”

Beat cracked his knuckles, marching towards the door. “Aight, le’s bounce! Risette, here we come!”

“Hey, wait, you can’t just  _ shout _ that!” The salaryman stumbled after Beat, Rhyme holding back to smile at the Reapers one last time. 

“Enjoy the rest of your meal.” 

And with that, she was gone.

“...well,” Kariya eventually managed, “I don’t think anyone’s tried to psychoanalyze me  _ that _ hard before. How about-”

“Grab a to-go box,” Uzuki snarled, “And let’s get back to work. I’m suddenly feeling  _ very _ motivated.”

As the two scrambled to collect their food (and apologize profusely to the waitstaff hiding in the wings), arguing over what Reaper Game to set up next, neither bothered to look at their own reflections.

If they had, they might have seen the two pairs of yellow eyes staring back at them.


End file.
